


Kneeling on Broken Knees

by sometimesimeow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bondage, Come Inflation, Cousin Incest, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 23:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10146755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesimeow/pseuds/sometimesimeow
Summary: Prompt fulfillment. A very, very late prompt fulfillment."I'd just been craving a story where Robb lives (~total hand wave as to how haha~) and does take the north as king, but he never married because he's fought for so long and so hard and he deserves his prize; Jon, who he now knows is his cousin. This more ruthless and less happy Robb has lost a lot in the war, and he's now not willing to hold back his desires. He calls for Jon from the Wall and excuses him from his duty (kings can do that!!!) and makes him his consort and names Bran (?) his heir."Robb is brought back to life instead of Catelyn and uses the opportunity to take back the North and seek revenge against his enemies. When he succeeds, he decides he needs a reward.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebatwiggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebatwiggler/gifts).



> This is an alternate universe where Robb is brought back to life and becomes a bit more ruthless (I mean, he did just die). The first part of this story is pretty plotty and then it gets into hardcore smut at the end.

Hours after Robb Stark was resurrected from the blood-drenched ditch he was buried in, he came to the conclusion that the only reason good men died was to allow evil men to live. Had he been human when he came to the conclusion, his father’s honor, ingrained into his veins and pounded into his once beating heart, would have dismissed the thought as nonsense. Yet, he was not human—not any longer — and the world was senseless and dark and as clear as a sky without clouds. Greywind’s head was not the only curse the Frey’s bestowed on him; his wolf’s final blessing filled his body with beastly blood and awakened a thirst for flesh.

“Kill them all,” Robb promised himself. He was sitting in front of the fire. All but two members of the Brotherhood were awake, keeping watch on the outskirts of the campsite. He repeated the phrase all night and in the morning, filling the men's dreams with vengeance.

“Kill them all. Kill them all. Kill them all.”

***

Alive, King Robb Stark was a tragic hero, ruined by love and the lies of dishonest men. Undead, he was a legend, a divine being brought back by the gods to reclaim the North from usurpers. The Red God must have been clawing at his innards in regret; all his hard work to have his fame stolen by gods without names.

At first, the Brotherhood was reluctant to follow a man who could not speak. All day and night, he said the same thing. Yet his message was clear when they chased him to the Twins and he tore the map out of their leader’s hands. Robb Stark did not need words to plan a massacre. Within hours, he scribbled lines and found holes in the legendary stronghold of the Riverlands. At night, Robb Stark stormed the seat of House Frey. He led the slaughter of every man, woman, and child. “Kill them all,” he ordered his men, for they were his beyond the Red God. They were his beyond his father, who sent the first hundred on a fool’s quest. No, Robb would no longer send these men to graves.

With every Frey dead and buried in their own grime and their patriarch’s body nailed upon the bridge, Robb thirst quenched for a brief second. He returned to the North with his army of broken men. The effect was immediate. Within his presence, they recovered as if they too were brought from the dead. They were empowered. They were strong. Their ruler was more than a king; he was the first among equals. They thought, ‘now, our enemies could only cower for they were blessed with a man who could not die.’

Before reclaiming Winterfell, Robb was drawn to the Neck. Lord Reed, the beloved friend of his father, was the first to touch him. Gashes and punctures riddled his body. They were not healed during his resurrection. Lord Reed sewed his skin with a sharpened pine prickle and the veins of leaves for thread. He prayed for it to grow and it did. He fed the boy-king raw meats from the swamps and let him drink the blood of lizard lions until he was at full strength. Robb Stark leaned into his embrace.

“Where will you go?” Howland asked.

Robb did not respond. “Kill them all,” he told the Lord of the Neck.

***

When winter came, the South would starve. He would wait to waste his resources on them. His wounds burned; a reminder that the most dangerous harms were always close to home. Robb aimed to dispose of the treacherous snakes in his garden. He reclaimed Winterfell with brutality envied by the Lannisters. With the news of their resurrected wolf, the men who pledged loyalty to the Boltons dispersed to be reunited with the true King in the North. Some were slaughtered during their desertion. The ones who survived fed their rage to their wolf-king and allowed him to deliver vengeance on their tyrants. The Boltons were not given a clean death. Lord Bolton was pierced with a hundred arrows before the last one made acquaintances with his head. Robb delivered the last shot. Lord Ramsay was eaten alive by his own starving dogs.

When he met with the Karstarks, they were little more than quaking beggars. He was greeted by Lord Karstark’s daughter. She bent the knee without hesitation. He thought to kill her in case she inherited her father’s disobedience. His thoughts were interrupted when her husband made his appearance. Robb, who had seen the depths of heaven and hell, was surprised.

Alys Karstark wedded a wildling.

“How does a wildling marry a highborn lady?” asked one of his soldiers.

Robb cared little for an explanation. He was about to sharpen his blade when the name ‘Jon’ escaped her lips. He stood up, abrupt as thunder and grabbed her by the throat. It took two Umber men to hold back her husband but their king persisted.

“Jon,” he growled out. “Jon,” he kept on saying. The members of the brotherhood stared in shock, for it was the first time he spoke a word outside his vengeful phrase. Alys tried to pry his fingers off her. Robb’s men had to separate the two. Once released, Alys was given warning to speak now or forever hold her peace in the grave. She spoke with composure. Her unease did not matter as she spun a tale of salvation.

Jon was the Commander of the Night’s Watch. He saved her and many lives. He was up North and he was waiting for him. The last phrase was not spoken by her but by the insufferable voice in his head.

Robb allowed her to keep her lands after the tale. If Jon granted her such kindness, he would not betray him. He told Lady Karstark to prepare her men and the men of her husband. He was going South and he was delivering his vengeance.

Then after, he would claim his prize.

The lady did not refuse; she followed her king’s command. 

***

Jon was not aware of his brother’s return (and oh, he was no longer his brother, was he? No, Bran made sure to clarify his distinctive lineage. He cried the night he learned of his bloodline, for all his suffering and misery has been linked so closely to being the sin of an honest man). His sorrows renewed when the influx of members arrived, caged and abused, starving while a truck of goods followed them.

Each week, these half-dead and starved men were coming in by the dozens and accompanied by food and weapons, stolen and raided from the southern farms his brother’s armies ravaged. Jon did not believe the tales at first, but when he unchained the men from their shackles, they all said the same thing. The wolf-king had returned.

Jon waited for each new crop of men as a sailor’s wife would for a ship. In one, he heard that King Robb took back both his sisters, one hidden underneath the black wings of a mockingbird and the other one wearing the face of a stranger and clothes drenched in red. In exchange for not assaulting their lands, the Reach offered Robb their heir to the eldest. Robb accepted their proposal without much thought. He wanted blood but the Reach would not satisfy his thirst. In another story, Jon learned that his youngest brother was rescued from cannibals who shrouded him in the flesh of fallen men. He was safely within the walls of Winterfell. When King Stannis announced his intention to marry his daughter to Rickon, Jon could not agree.

“I have no power in that regard. You must ask my brother,” Jon responded softly. He was looking south, waiting for new men.

“They say he does not speak. He only promises vengeance.” 

Jon had a letter in his desk that claimed otherwise. His brother knew one other word.

“Jon,” Alys wrote in her letter to him. “He kept calling for you.”

Jon.

Jon closed his eyes and imagined the words being spoken over and over again. Jon, he could hear Robb whispering.

Jon, you are mine.

Jon, wait for me.

Jon, I am coming for you.

Jon—

***

“Jon?” Bran whispered in his bed. Jon woke up to see Bran’s worried gaze upon him. They’ve taken to sharing a room for the sake of protection. He would not see Bran harmed in an attempt to get to him.

“Yes, Bran?” Jon tried to hide a sob in his throat.

“Robb is coming.”

Jon was surprised for a second. His heart settled onto a fusion of longing and foreboding.

“I know.”

***

When Robb arrived at the Wall, Jon was waiting for him. He stood on top of the tower and stared down at the dead man he once loved like a brother and perhaps more. His legs trembled. Without thinking, he dashed down, stumbling into the shoulders and backs of many men. The Wall was filled to the hilt at this point. It was impossible to glide through the ice as it once was. When he reached the gates, he demanded they open them.

The armies came in foot by foot, horse by horse, cavalry following as if they were on one side of the battlefield.

Robb rode a white horse whose skin was darker than his rider. He looked like death without the pestilence. His eyes darkened with unanswered lust. His muscled bulged and tightened with unsettled desire. He took Jon’s breath away with his presence alone. Jon was caged without bars and could only wait for his brother.

Jon’s instinct was to shield himself from harm—but he couldn’t. This was Robb and Robb would never hurt him.

Jon’s king got off his horse and marched towards him. Without warning, he grabbed Jon's curls and the roughness made him cry out. He gasped Robb’s name. Robb’s gaze focused on Jon’s lips and without warning, he pulled his younger brother into a kiss.

There was no kindness in the gesture. The men watched as their king and commander locked lips, teeth, and tongue. Jon whimpered at every bite. Robb no longer relied on air to survive. He let go of Jon’s mouth for the sake of attacking his brother’s neck. His hands slipped underneath his furs and Jon flinched from the coldness. Robb took his tenseness as a sign of rejection and worked harder to mark him.

No one stopped them. No one could defeat a dead man mad with desire.

“Robb…” Jon pleaded. He did not ask him to stop. He merely brought his hands to Robb’s face and begged with his touch. Life dripped into the king’s veins through the tips of Jon’s fingers. Red warmed his cheeks. "Robb," he whispered again as the semblance of the man he loved returned. 

The wolf uttered two words.

“Kneel, Jon.”

Jon did not hesitate. He got on his knees. When Robb did not present a hand to kiss, Jon's lips touched his cock instead.

***

As a child, Jon remembered following Robb’s every command. While Lady Stark made it explicitly clear that Robb was his better, his father— _uncle_ , Jon clarified in his head—was far more subtle. He trained Jon to devote himself to Robb. While he could be happy at his own accomplishments, he was expected to be overjoyed with Robb’s. When he did well in swords training, he always lost his footing when sparring with his older brother. Ser Rodrik tried to discourage the submission but Jon would not obey him. Lord Stark pretended not to notice. He could not risk Jon drawing too much attention and there’s nothing that caught the eye more than a bastard bettering his brother. 

“Robb will inherit Winterfell. His successes are Winterfell’s successes. So you must support him, Jon, for the sake of Winterfell.”

Jon nodded. He understood his place.

***

Ever since their return to Winterfell, Jon woke Robb up with his face nestled between his thighs and his mouth stretched around his cock. Jon always made sure to shove at least four inches down his throat, even if it kept him sore all day. Robb liked to feel the bulge when he wrapped his hands around Jon’s throat. It made him feel tighter. According to Robb, “Jon’s throat was like a second cunt” and cunts required a certain amount of pounding to be healthy. 

“A good consort must be ready to satisfy his king at any moment,” Robb uttered. He spoke as if he were repeating the lines from an etiquette lesson. Every action linked to his humanity—food, water, _fucking_ —helped Robb’s speech. Jon’s morning duties were an answer to Robb’s insomnia. The man could no longer sleep without the promise of waking up to his cocksleeve.

The routine ended whenever Robb came. Robb was never satisfied until he saw his lover’s throat overflowing with cum. He liked to see Jon turned into a gagging, spluttering mess. He loved how the white cream soaked Jon’s face and hair and dripped over his body. If a drop got on the sheets, however, Jon was forced to give him a repeat performance to make up for the sloppy work.

At some point in their ritual, Jon’s brain stopped working. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as gulped more cock down. He reverted to being an object for Robb’s satisfaction. Jon was here to collect Robb’s cum and if he couldn’t do his job, he deserved every bit of punishment.

***

At their council meetings, Jon proved himself useful by taking notes and warming up Robb’s cock. Jon’s mouth was always ready from the morning, but his ass required more training. Since he got into the habit of waking up before his king, he used the extra time to stretch out his hole.

Today, Jon was seated on Robb’s cock. His manhood was snugly lodged inside him. Since the council was still getting news to their regal positions, they were not yet used to their queen bouncing on top of their king’s cock. White cum was already dripping out of his hole and down his thighs. Robb unloaded at the beginning of the meeting, before the last of the members arrived.

Today, they were going over the recent crop reductions. Winter was coming and though the start was better than they expected, they were still wary of unforeseen climate changes. The squelching noises echoed Lord Manderly’s suggestions. 

Jon opened his mouth to answer. “We still have time to build a few more glass gardens. With our recent earnings from the war, we can have the glass—ah!” Jon was thrust upwards. The men were taken back as Jon was thrown against the wooden table. Robb got up. He gripped Jon’s hips and began to pound into him with abandon. He enjoyed fucking Jon when there was already a present load inside him. 

Robb grunted as he released another load of cum inside Jon. Jon was slumped against the table as his ass milked Robb for every drop worth. When Robb was satisfied, their king returned to his throne and leaned back. Jon tried to adjust himself into a more comfortable position but the second Jon slipped off Robb’s cock, Robb grabbed him by the scruff and forced him back into it. The council winced at the squeal. The position was uncomfortable, but Jon obliged. He whimpered as he got back to business.

“We can…ah…have the glass imported from Dorne. They…oh! They were helpful during the war so we...we…hah…should continue the goodwill.” Jon bit his lip as Robb added a finger inside him. He was fascinated by the stretch. “If we make the order now, we can have them…oh…please…delivered before the winter is at its…Robb, I’m…worst and have emergency rations prepared.” Robb grabbed his face and joined their lips together.

“There are far better merchants in Essos for glass,” suggested Lord Manderly. He did his best to hide his discomfort.

“The war is still fresh. I rather make sure our allies are happy,” Jon replied. He was heaving.

Lady Mormont agreed with the sentiment. Her eyes followed the river of cum staining the floor. “The price is more advantageous for us. We can get more material from Dorne than the merchants of Volantis. It’ll be an army for shipping alone.”

“Quality should be prized over quantity.”

Lord Forrester seconded the notion. “They’re more likely to survive the harder storms.”

“And that will be great for your families to enjoy.” Lady Mormont glared. “But my people and the people of the North will be fortunate to afford one glass garden let alone the dozens you already have.”

The argument could have gone on all day.

“Silence,” Robb ordered.

Their King rarely spoke. When he did, there was nothing but deafness that followed.

They waited for his verdict.

Robb sucked on Jon’s shoulder. The younger man shivered.

“Jon has spoken.” Robb’s cock hardened and he pushed himself further inside Jon for warmth. He sighed. “You listen to him or you leave. The guards are outside.”

The reminder silenced them all. King Robb’s law was simple. Dissenters were no longer a natural part of ruling. Anyone who disagreed with him or his consort’s plans could leave or they could die. Their titles would be stripped from their names. Their lines would end with them. Their heirs, killed. They exchanged glances, waited an appropriate amount of time, and moved on to their next topic.

Jon kissed his king to keep him silent. He was grateful for their timing. Winter was not the time to launch a coup. 

***

There were times when Jon worried about Robb becoming a tyrant. There were plenty of kings who never got their name remembered, but the ones who did were either great or infamous. He did not want Robb’s dying epigraph to be that of a madman. 

After their meeting, Jon fixed a bath for the two of them. All the simple duties were relegated to Jon. He made the beds for none of the serving girls were allowed in their room and cooked their meals because Robb no longer trusted food brought to him by a stranger. On a good day, they allowed their siblings to eat with them.

For their bath, Jon stripped Robb out of his clothes. Jon was already in the nude; he was not allowed to be dressed when Robb was not. He started with Robb’s shirt. At the sight of his chest, Jon paused to control his own body’s reaction. The war made Robb into a man, there was no denying that. His body was full of angles and sharp edges. Muscles bulged on his arms and the lines of his abs were tantalizing.

Despite how death latched onto his features, Robb was gorgeous. Jon could stare at him all day, but the man in question grew impatient. He threw Jon into the water and took off his pants before joining him. Jon had barely enough time to compose himself as he was forced on his knees. The water and their previous fucking gave Robb the impression that Jon was as stretched as he needed to be. Robb slapped him on his ass once and then proceeded with a solid cock squeeze. Jon gasped. At least the water made his skin warm. Though Robb was not as cold as before, his heat was only half as hot as a living human.

The first thrust is brutal. Jon moaned as he was being pounded with vigor and desperation. Though used to the burn of Robb’s girth, the water added an extra force to their fucking. Jon squeezed down on the cock to provide better friction. Robb’s second thrusts nearly tipped Jon outside their bath.

“You’re always seducing me,” Robb accused. “You look at me with those eyes of yours and you make me fuck you.” Jon opened his mouth and let his moans echo in the bath. They sounded louder in privacy. He tried to focus on the full feeling. There was a sickening part of him that enjoyed the power he had over Robb. These indulgences were costing Robb his sanity but Jon could not stop. He had to please his king, thus was the role of a consort. 

Jon clenched his hole at the beginning of another thrust. He came instantly when he felt Robb’s cock rubbing against his inner walls in order to get to his prostate. The man became angry at the tension. It must have felt like a rejection. 

Jon passed out after his second dried orgasm. Robb, with his inhuman stamina, continued even after he carried him to bed. 

***

Jon’s reputation as consort became popular gossip for years. Men from the south, the east, and eventually the west stared enviously at the wolf king's wife and wished such obedience was groomed in their own.

On the occasion they were to meet with the Tyrells, Jon pleaded with Robb to be civil. He would do most of the talking; Robb need not stake his claim. “He is married to Sansa,” Jon reminded. “He has no desire for what is yours.”

The second Robb’s eyes met with Lord Willas, Robb forced Jon into his lap and fondled him relentlessly. He bit his neck.

“Robb!” Jon protested. He tipped his head backward in instinctive submissions.

Robb pretended not to hear as suckled on Jon’s bare flesh and fingered his open ass. He fucked his fingers in over and over again. The rage of Jon’s lies consumed him. There was no man on this earth who did not desire him and to be so brazen with his deception—Robb’s cock grew bigger with the thought of punishment looming ahead of them. Their sister watched in horror. Lord Willas was speechless. 

Their council proceeded as if nothing was happening. Willas tried his best to focus on the suggestions while the king positioned Jon to face him. From where he was sitting, Willas got a clear view of Jon’s stretched hole. His body was obscene—sucking the cock in without preparation. Willas swore the hole was glistening. He heard rumors that the consort was so used to taking his king’s cock that the thought of his husband made him wet as a woman. He bit his lips. He wished it was true.

Jon’s hole was red throughout the pounding and for good reason. Robb fucked him as if it were their last night on earth. His thrusts were hard enough that everyone in the room could hear Robb’s balls slapping against his brother’s ass. The sounds of slick and groans connecting left his cock aching. Eventually, Sansa had to excuse herself.

Willas thought to follow her, as any good husband would to a disgruntled wife, but the sight before him was too awe-worthy.

In the end, it was decided that they would continue their meeting tomorrow.

Jon did not arrive the next day or the next. Robb watched listened silently as his advisors took their notes and promised that the suggestions would be reconsidered. They eventually came to a decent settlement that Jon supposedly approved of.

With the exceptions of such diplomatic duties, the king was never seen. His consort was a memory for three days. No food disappeared from the kitchens and no water was lost.

King Robb returned to his room to see his lover. His mouth was gagged with cum threatening to escape from the corners. His eyes were covered by a blindfold. He laid on the bed, on his back, legs bent and his ankles tied to his arms. A wooden plug was stuffed into his asshole but did little to help the overflow from pouring out. His stomach was bloated with Robb. He looked several weeks pregnant.

Robb crawled on the bed and removed the plug. A dam of cum overflowed out. Robb pushed his stomach to get a real gushing effect. Robb sighed as he sunk his cock in the warm heat.

“Don’t lie, Jon. They all want you. They want the North. I won’t let them have you. I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all if they take you.”

Jon muffled something through his gag. Robb pretended it was something sweet as he jerked his cock inside.

***

Jon returned to their meetings after the Tyrell party had left. He was happy to learn that by now, people found the lack of fornication to be odd rather than the other way around. No one paid any mind to the way Robb was spreading his legs and burying his cock inside him. 

Lady Mormont continued her assessment. “The Reeds are proposing we in doctrine the Twins into the North. It is not a bad idea to obtain more lands, especially ones so fertile…”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it this oneshot. I am finally filling my prompts. I have a few more to go but I look forward to doing them! Have a lovely day!


End file.
